


9 Good Reasons

by louispains



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louispains/pseuds/louispains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Larry Stylinson oneshot that opens at the close.</p><p>Louis still doesn’t have a reason, and Eleanor doesn’t have the time.</p><p>(Eleanor loves Louis. They are about to get married. Louis loves Eleanor. But Louis also really loves Harry. And Harry also really loves Louis. So list 9 good reasons to break off a wedding.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	9 Good Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a year ago but am transferring it onto ao3 only now for some reason so enjoyyyyyyyy

The venue is, quite literally, overflowing with people, Louis notices as he stares down the aisle at the big wooden doors, awaiting Eleanor’s entrance.

His heart is beating a thousand times a minute inside his chest and he can hear Harry breathing behind him and it takes every ounce of strength in Louis’ body to not turn around to look at him.

He’s sure that he probably already knows what Harry looks like right now, anyway. His hands clasped low in front of his body and his eyes trained to the floor. That stupidly perfect tight-fitting tuxedo looking out of place against his sad eyes and lip drawn in between his teeth.

The doors open and Eleanor emerges arm in arm with her father. Louis wants to be sick.

He racks his brain desperately for number eight to distract himself but instead can’t seem to stop wondering when exactly he started trying to think of reasons to not be with Eleanor instead of reasons to be with Eleanor.

—

"Okay everyone, quiet, quiet!" Eleanor giggles to the group, tapping her glass with a knife to get attention and Louis can tell that she’s already tipsy from the champagne. She has a huge, bubbly grin on her face and Louis in tow as she flips her hair and prepares herself to deliver the news. Louis thinks absently that bubbly is the only demeanour Eleanor ever really has.

Everyone stares at her expectantly, although by this time of the night mostly everyone has caught on to why all of Eleanor and Louis’ closest friends and family have been called to one massive party. And Eleanor isn’t exactly trying to hide her massive engagement ring either.

She can only seem to carry out the suspense for a second or two before it kills her. “Louis and I are getting married!” She squeals out and pulls him into her side excitedly as the crowd begins to applaud and cheer. Louis grins at her, because he is excited, really, he is. He wouldn’t have proposed to Eleanor if he hadn’t wanted to marry her. But he can’t stop scanning the room in search of those bright green eyes.

He finds them, eventually, just as Harry is standing up to leave the room. Louis runs after him, earning a few strange looks, but he’s sure he can amend that later.

"Haz," Louis calls out after him as he steps out onto the cold street. "Haz, wait."

Harry stops but doesn’t turn around. Louis feels small, irrelevant, and after a beat of silence where Louis has stared at Harry’s back for a little bit too long he’s not sure if he should even say anything anymore. It suddenly seems like it can wait.

He does anyway. His voice is quiet and broken and barely there. But it’s there nonetheless. 

"Will you be my best man?"

Harry’s shoulders visibly slump at that. Visibly. And when he swivels around to face Louis his face is pulled into a series of straight lines.

Harry nibbles on his bottom lip for a moment, his emotionless facade faltering, and Louis pretends that he doesn’t understand why Harry looks so sad all of a sudden. It’s easier that way.

Harry just stares at the floor and nods, unable to look him in the eye, before making his way quickly over to Louis. He keeps his hands in his pocket while he kisses him gently on the cheek and whispers “I’m really happy for you”.

And if Louis sees the tear that rolls down Harry’s cheek as he pulls away and walks off into the night, then he will lie to himself for the rest of his life and say that he didn’t.

-

Two weeks have passed since the engagement party. Two weeks since Eleanor announced the wonderful news to everyone Louis loves. Two weeks since he had asked Harry to be his best man, and he hasn’t heard from him since.

It would be a great understatement to say that Louis would be lying if he said that this didn’t bother him. Partly because his best man was supposed to help him with planning the wedding and whatnot, but mostly because he really just fucking missed his best friend.

On more than one occasion Louis has had to physically restrain himself from calling Harry, telling himself that “If he wanted to talk to me, he would have called first”. These occasions usually ended in Louis unsuccessfully trying to hide his phone from himself, and even trying to drop it in the toilet so that he was literally incapable of calling Harry, on one very extreme occasion.

"Louuuuu!" Eleanor calls one morning from the shower, her voice startling him into consciousness.

Groggily he clambers out of bed, mentally cursing to himself about outlawing sheep as he trips over Eleanor’s ugg boots on the way to the bathroom, and sticks his head through the already open door. His eyes are still half glued shut with sleep.

"What is it, El?" His tone comes out more bitter than it was supposed to and he flinches a little, hoping she doesn’t notice.

"I’m going dress shopping with mum and the girls today so I’m going to be pretty busy for a while, do you reckon you could organise the invitations for me?" She peeks her head around the shower curtain, discreetly pulling her best puppy-dog eyes to persuade him.

"Oh, uh, yeah sure" Louis nods because this is his wedding too so he should at least do something to partake in the planning. Without really thinking about what he is getting himself into, Louis closes the door and walks off. It’s not until he has landed face-down on their shared bed that he groans aloud "WhatthefuckwasIthinking I don’t have a single goddamn creative bone in my body.” 

After several long hours of staring at invitation designs on the internet without making any notable progress whatsoever, Louis decides it’s time to accept his fate. He is just simply not the artistic type.

Despite all of Louis’ internal protests, despite all of his stubborn pleas and cries to himself that if Harry wants to talk to me then he will call me first, he knows that Harry, of all the people in the fucking world, is the artistic type. 

And it’s not possible. It is physically not possible for Louis to design these invitations alone, unless Eleanor doesn’t mind sending her guests bright blue dinosaur shaped cards that read “RAWR! That means ‘I love you’ in dinosaur”.

But this is the day that his whole life has lead up to. He knows that everything has to be perfect.

So he swallows every ounce of his dignity and reaches for his phone, and if anyone were to ask him how many tries it took for him to type out the message, he would lie and say one, and that he definitely did not draft and re-read twelve different messages before finally closing his eyes and hitting send before he could change his mind.

To: Harry  
From: Louis  
need ur artistic ability to help design my wedding invitations :(( when u free? x

Louis flings his phone across the room as soon as his phone makes the little whoosy sent noise. Suddenly picturing about a hundred better ways that he could have worded the text.

He is a text message failure. He puts shame upon every teenager everywhere for his poorly thought out messages, Louis thinks as he leans forward off the couch and smushes his face against the coffee table.

And Harry doesn’t reply.

So that’s how Louis finds himself curled up into a ball on his couch an hour and a half later, groaning to himself and trying not to think how absolutely fucked he is going to be when Eleanor finds out that he has wasted a whole day of precious invitation designing time by pouting to himself on the couch.

1\. Our whole relationship has been unlucky.  
From the fact that their anniversary is on Friday the 13th to the simple misfortune that every single one of their dinner reservations has always been double booked, luck is just not something that happens when it comes to the love life of Louis and Eleanor.

Louis is just about ready to give up on life and is making some serious considerations to order that pack of multipurpose dinosaur shaped cards when there is a knock at the door of his apartment.

Louis doesn’t know if it’s because he likes attention or because he’s too desperate right now to do any different or if it’s because he may or may not be secretly hoping that whoever it is that’s knocking on his door is Harry, but he pushes away the forethought of calling the police and saying that someone is trying to break into his apartment just so he doesn’t have to get up and open the door, and actually gets up to open the door.

Louis just so happens to glance at the screen of his laptop, which is still open to 101 Wedding Invitations, on the way to the door and may or may not have speculative thoughts about smashing the computer over his head in order to escape the satanic ritual of invitation designing.

Louis feels like he might vomit or explode or pass out or maybe all three simultaneously when he finally manages to get the door open, because Harry is standing in his doorway with about five plastic bags hanging off each arm and a huge grin on his face and maybe there is a God after all.

After a moment of standing there with an expression that probably resembles the hybrid of a shocked goldfish and a lovesick puppy, Louis blinks himself back into consciousness and steps aside to let Harry in without even saying a word.

"Sorry I didn’t text back," Harry says and sets down the bags on his coffee table before Louis even has chance to ask, "I figured I’d get over here soon enough but, I guess I got a little carried away…" he gestures to the bags.

It’s just so good to actually hear Harry’s voice again that Louis doesn’t even realise he hasn’t said anything until Harry looks up at him for his answer after a beat of silence that Louis let slip by unconsciously.

Louis clears his throat and uses every ounce of his strength to Look away from Harry’s face.

"What’s in the bags?"

Harry looks up at him and smiles widely, and Louis thinks that such a wide smile would have looked goofy were it not for the unimpeachably elegant green in his eyes. He smiles with all the delight of a kid on Christmas morning, like he had been waiting his entire life for Louis to ask him that question and says “wedding invitation decorations”.

And that’s it. Louis is done. Louis is absolutely completely 100% done with life. Also Harry is not a human being. He is an angel or maybe even God himself because no human in existence ever could be that perfect.

Louis just lets out a little whining noise in the back of his throat that he has been holding in for far too long now and squeaks out. “You’re my hero”.

"I know." Harry says with a smug little smirk on his face and begins to proudly unload the contents of his bags.

There’s all sorts of patterned papers, varieties little ribbons and bows and an assortment of lace and everything else one could possibly need to create wedding invitations, and more. He even got a sheet of little love heart stickers, that absolute cupcake.

Louis just stares at it all with a lump in his throat and wonders how he got quite so lucky to have Harry in his life at all and tries to discreetly close the webpage open on his laptop where he has the dinosaur invitations added to his virtual shopping cart.

"I got some really great ideas while I was walking around the store," Harry claims as he begins to extract some textured paper from its packet "so I’ll just make you a few demos then you can decide which one you like the best, yeah?’

Louis’ not sure if it’s because he’s simply too bone-tired or because he actually has more self control than he originally thought, but he hasn’t flung himself at Harry and snogged his living daylights out yet, so he’s probably doing okay.

He feels the colour visibly drain from his face and he has to sit down and clutch the edge of his couch to refrain from passing out. Louis just nods, his eyes wide and eyebrows disappearing somewhere into his hairline as he manages to croak out a “That would be great.”

And if Harry notices how hard Louis is trying to not rip his clothes off and attach his lips to every last sliver of his skin right now then he doesn’t mention it, bless his soul.

Forty five minutes of staring at Harry’s hands as they glue little ribbons and rhinestones onto paper later and Louis is going absolutely mental. His knuckles are white and there are little half-moon shaped indents in the palms of his hands from squeezing his fingernails into them so tightly. He’s almost certain that if he tried to walk right now his knees would simply just give way and send him flailing to the floor unceremoniously and without a second thought. His goddamn selfish knees for being so weak. And Harry’s goddamn selfish entire fucking body for being so knee-weakening.

Thankfully he has since ditched the couch and accompanied Harry on the floor. Thankfully because he doesn’t have to try and walk any time soon, but also not so much because it gives him a better close-up view of Harrys biceps flexing ever so slightly under his thin t-shirt every time he moves.

Harry catches him staring and Louis clears his throat awkwardly, averting his eyes elsewhere in a desperate plea to find something else to talk about.

He eyes the love heart stickers that have somehow worked their way out of the packet yet still remain untouched and Harry’s already three designs in. He picks them up and smirks at Harry.

"So what plans did you have for these bad boys, then?" Louis says coyly and when Harry looks up from his work he’s got a little smile on his face.

"Oh, I don’t know." And Harry fucking blushes then. “I just saw them and thought, I dunno,” He shrugs “they were cute. And we might’ve been able to use them somewhere.”

"Oh Hazza," Louis shakes his head and startles himself slightly when he hears the nickname slipping easily out of his mouth for what must have been the first time in ages. He peels a sticker from the sheet. "They are very cute.” And with that he quickly darts out his hand and smacks the sticker onto Harry’s cheek.

He drops the half-finished invitation and looks up with an expression on his face that makes him look like he has just been violated by a litter of kittens. Slowly he begins to shake his head and Louis stares at his mouth as a huge grin forms. “This means war.”

Before he knows what’s happening, Harry grabs the sheet of stickers next to him and within the time span of no more than ten seconds he has Louis pinned to the floor with more than half of the stickers transferred from the sheet onto his face.

Louis bursts out into a fit of giggles and tries unsuccessfully to wriggle his arms out of Harry’s grasp to attack him with more stickers as he keeps a struggling Louis pinned effortlessly to the floor.

"Okay, okay I surrender!" Louis manages out between bursts of laughter and Harry releases him and moves back over to his respective side of the wedding invitation decoration pile. Suddenly feeling much too far away.

Honestly it’s nice to muck around like this with Harry again. There’s really no denying it that ever since Eleanor came in the picture they haven’t been hanging out as much. And Louis misses it. He misses just talking to him as a friend and telling him about all of the little insignificant things that crowd his head. He misses their conversations.

Maybe it’s just because he misses him, or maybe it’s because Harry is sitting right in front of him with a stupid grin on his face and a love heart sticker stuck on each dimple but he looks so fucking adorable and Louis can’t even control himself anymore. Not after staring at him across a pile of arts and crafts for forty five minutes without touching him at all, and definitely not after a sticker fight in which Harry’s body had been lined up flush against his, pressing him into the floor unable to move in what could probably only be described as the least suggestive way possible.

And it’s with this lack of self control that Louis surges across the sheets of paper and sequins and ribbons and tackles him to the floor, crashing their lips together without thinking twice.

And it’s not for the first time. Far from it, actually. There were the nights of hot breaths on each others necks and kisses that left bruises in the morning, fingers digging into hip bones and skin rubbing up against skin as they moaned each others names into the darkness. The nights that always left them both in a panting, tangled heap. The nights Louis wishes he could have back.

Harry complies immediately, wrapping his hands around Louis body as he wrestles him into a straddling position on the floor. He runs his hands up and down his back, sneaking his hands under his shirt and tracing his spine with his fingertips.

Louis stays like that, grinding down onto Harry with his hands in his hair, kissing him until his lips are sore. And he knows that what he is doing is wrong and bad on so many levels but he really can’t bring himself to care right now because all he can think about is the little keening noises Harry is making into his mouth and he’s suddenly hit with how much he just really fucking misses Harry. Not just like this but in all the darkest spaces as well.

He pulls away from Harry and stares down at him from where he is still straddling his hips, their torsos lined up close.

He untangles one hand from Harry’s hair and stokes his cheek gently and can barely even catch himself before he whispers out “I love you, Harry.”

And it’s around the same time that Harry whispers back “I love you, too” that he notices a wedding invitation stuck to Harry’s hair. It reads “The Wedding of Eleanor Calder and Louis Tomlinson” in loopy black writing and Louis feels like he’s going to be sick.

He rolls off Harry with a panicked expression on his face and a burning lump in his throat and Harry, bless his soul, seems to understand because he just gets up to leave. He doesn’t ask any questions or say anything at all other than “I’m sorry” as he crosses the room and walks out of the door.

Harry leaves that night with love bites scattered across his neck and a sad little look in his eye that Louis tries so desperately to forget as he locks eyes with Harry one more time before he closes the door and disappears.

-

"Well don’t you look charming." Liam chimes as Louis emerges from the changing rooms in the third tuxedo he’s tried on in the fifth store they’ve visited.

"It’s hideous, isn’t it?" Louis whines even though he can tell that Liam’s tone is only half sarcastic. "I knew I should have tried on tighter pants."

"No no, it looks great, really!" Liam amends as he stands up and makes his way over to Louis. He spins him around to face his reflection in the mirror. "Eleanor’s a lucky girl."

Louis manages a waif smile at that, but he’s sure it turns out as more of a grimace as he nods his head half heartedly, his eyes remain uncrinkled.

2\. I don’t get along with her family.  
And it’s not that her parents don’t approve of Louis; he has money and looks and fame and everything they could possibly want their daughter to have in a man. They just don’t like him, it’s as simple as that. Just a stupid little grudge that they won’t seem to let down no matter how much ass-kissing Louis puts into place.

Louis loves Liam, really he does, so he feels kind of bad for wishing that it were Harry here with him instead. It should be Harry here with him instead. But as soon as he mentioned tuxedo shopping to him, he had claimed that he was ill with the flu and unable to get out of bed.

This would have been believable, had Harry’s text contained any emoticons or little x’s like they usually did. But the message had just been so unbelievably un-Harry that Louis instantly knew something was wrong.

As Liam drove the two of them home that afternoon Louis decided to avert his attention to coming up with credible reasons for why Harry didn’t want to go tuxedo shopping with him and tried to convince himself that Harry was, in fact, not avoiding him. It’s been two and a half weeks since what Louis refers to as The Invitation Incident and the only time he’s heard from Harry since was when he replied to his tuxedo text saying that he was ill.

So maybe it is a little off. And maybe Louis isn’t quite okay with that, but what is he supposed to do about it? It’s not like he can just call Harry spontaneously or show up at his house and demand to know why he isn’t talking to him, right?

And Louis thinks absently as he blows his hot breath out onto the window of Liam’s car and draws shapes in the steam, that the longer he puts it off, the longer he pretends like it doesn’t matter to him, slowly it will start to actually not matter to him.

-

Louis startles back into consciousness when he feels someone nudging his arm gently. A long fingered hand wraps around his bicep and squeezes.

"Lou." Someone coos quietly. It’s Eleanor. "We’re here."

Louis stretches and blinks his eyes open against the sunlight and glances out the window. The second he catches sight of the huge church out the window is around about the same time that he remembers that they are currently looking for wedding venues.

He glances down at the list in his lap and hopes to God that this is going to be the last place they have to look. There’s roughly about twelve places written down on the little crumpled piece of paper and so far eight of them have been crossed off in one of Eleanor’s glittery purple pens. Sad faces next to every single one.

Hopefully church number nine is somehow better than the other eight identical ones that the two of them have encountered thus far today.

Louis climbs out of the car and stares up at the building with distaste. He’s never wanted to get married in a church.

3\. She yelled out another name during climax.  
Sure, it could have easily just been an accident that Eleanor would yell out a completely random name while they were having sex. And sure, Louis hasn’t exactly been faithful throughout their relationship either, which he knows is 100% awful, but it’s just as good a reason as any, at least he has the decency to remember who he’s fucking at one given time.

Eleanor swings around to the other side of the car and links arms with Louis before pulling him towards the entrance. ”It looks beautiful so far.” She beams as they make their way across the grass and Louis manages to give up a half hearted. “Yeah, it does.”

They make it inside and Eleanor instantly falls in love with the place. What part of it exactly that she falls in love with Louis can’t really determine as to him it looks more or less the same than the last eight places they have visited today.

She seems to have fallen in love with the chandelier and pulls Louis into the middle of the room to stand underneath it. “Look up” she says quietly, and Louis complies. 

And she’s right, it really is beautiful. As Louis stands there, staring up at the patterns of crystals hanging above them he finds himself thinking about green eyes that sparkle like emeralds and he can almost understand why Eleanor loves this church so much.

She pecks him on the lips once when he brings his head back down and whispers “This is definitely the one” before waltzing back out onto the street.

Eleanor’s lips are sickly sweet and the taste of her lipgloss sticks to Louis’ mouth long after hers is gone. Louis wins his internal debate about whether it would be bad-fiancee-behaviour allows himself to wipe his lips dry before following her back out to the car.

The ride home is quiet and Louis clutches the piece of paper with the venue circled and surrounded with little hearts tightly in his hand and tries not to think about how fast the time has gone since when he proposed to Eleanor.

They fall silently into bed that night after showering and brushing their teeth. Louis wonders how Eleanor can fall straight to sleep so easily without even wondering when and how their life slipped into such a routine without so much as a warning. He stares up at the ceiling tiles and wonders if he really wants to marry Eleanor, or if he just wants to get married.

4\. She wants to move to Manchester  
Eleanor studies in Manchester, Eleanor’s whole life is in Manchester. But Louis’ whole life aside from his Mum and sisters, is in London. But “London is too busy for me, Lou” Eleanor had pouted at him one night. “I just wanna move somewhere we can settle down, y’know? Really get comfortable together.” But really, if they’re not comfortable together by now, will they ever be?

-

Louis wakes up at eleven o’clock in the morning to an empty bed and a post-it note stuck to his forehead.

Gone to get manicures with the girls, made an appointment for cake testing at 1, you’re in charge!

Louis groans audibly to himself and pulls the sheets up over his head, willing the bed to turn into the mouth of a giant whale or something of equal size that could swallow him whole.

After about half an hour of staring into the darkness of his bed and wishing that time would just stop moving so fast, Louis decides that he should probably start getting ready unless he wants to show up to the cake testing sporting bed hair and his pyjamas, and no matter how appealing that option is to him right now, he knows that it is not feasible.

After a cold shower, a few slices of toast and as much procrastination that is humanly possible, Louis decides to text Harry.

It wasn’t his first option, not after the ordeal with the invitations. But after finding out that Liam is currently busy with Danielle and that Niall has food poisoning, he really doesn’t have much of another option right now.

Zayn is completely out of the question. And it’s not just because Louis is simply not in the mood to put up with his smart-ass remarks and banter and teasing about the wedding, but Zayn is the only one aside from Harry who really knows nearly every single thing that makes him tick.

Zayn can practically read Louis’ mind half of the time, so he would no doubt suspect that something was wrong the very second the text from Louis arrived on his phone. And Louis simply doesn’t think he has the physical capability to make up and believable lies right now.

So it’s with a great pile of reluctance and a pep-talk to himself in the mirror that Louis eventually texts Harry.

To: Harry  
From: Louis  
cake testing in an hour, you up for it? 

The reply comes almost instantly.

To: Louis  
From: Harry  
Of course. x 

And oh great, it’s an ‘x’, exactly what he needs right now.

5\. I’m an international pop star, for christ’s sake.  
Louis is never even in one place for long enough to get a dog, let alone marry someone. Being on tour constantly and recording albums in London would leave Eleanor alone for a lot of the time. But if absence makes the heart grow fonder…

Louis picks him up on the way to the cake testing without saying a word about The Invitation Incident or tuxedo shopping and really it should be more awkward than it is. Within the first few minutes of the drive they are laughing like the old friends that they are and Louis is thankful that Harry doesn’t seem to be holding some kind of grudge against him like he had expected he was when he turned him down the other day.

Twenty minutes and a loud, off-key, harmonised version of Teenage Dream later they rock up outside a fancy looking building that has swirly writing printed on the glass that reads Heidelberg’s Cakes, and Louis suddenly remembers that he’s getting married in three weeks and whatever grand mood he had built up throughout the car ride here suddenly comes crashing down around him.

"Looks pretty classy." Harry shrugs as he steps out of the car, clearly not as affected by the building as Louis, who groans loudly inside his empty car as he watches Harry through the window as he stretches his limbs after twenty minutes being cooped up in a car and shake his curls back into a messy perfection, is.

This is going to be one long freaking afternoon, Louis thinks as he tries to stop himself from making little grabbing motions at Harry’s torso through the window.

Karl-with-a-k Heidelberg turns out to be a fat, short German man who has a passion for cake making but still thinks his talents in the baking field are too grand to be wasted on any ordinary cakes.

The inner baker in Harry comes out and he inevitably turns into a cake snob, questioning Karl about the flour-to-egg ratio in every different sample or the ingredients of the fondant or other bakery related things Louis just doesn’t understand. He leans back in his chair, stomach warm and full of cakes and smiles lazily at Harry from across the table.

He is currently deep in a heated conversation about the size of the walnut pieces in the carrot cake and Louis can’t seem to stop staring at the way a smudge of left over icing is shining on his lip.

The pair turn to look at him and Louis, lost in his trance of the contrast between cherry red lips and icing as white as snow, doesn’t snap out of it in time to catch whatever it is that they must have been asking him.

"Oh, yes, uh-yeah." Louis smiles and nods at Karl who simply stares at him with an odd expression before waddling back off into the kitchen. And if Louis was one to worry about being judged by fat little German men, then the smirk Harry pulls as he glances down into his lap is enough to make him forget all about it.

"What are you smirking about, you little shit." Louis yell-whispers across the table covered with half eaten cake samples and dirty cutlery.

Harry glances back up innocently, his eyes wide, before poking his tongue out of his mouth to lick the icing off his bottom lip and suddenly what before had been cute and funny suddenly turned sexy and kinky and so very Harry-esque as his tongue disappears back into his mouth and his bottom lip pops back out of his mouth all shiny and wet.

"Nothing." Harry replies with his mouth upturned in one corner, and Louis wants to leap across the table and suck on his bottom lip.

Karl returns with another sample of what appears to be red velvet and Harry immediately asks him a question regarding the icing.

Louis can feel his toes curling under themselves inside his shoes as he watches the two of them converse about what utensil he used to beat the eggs and if he beat them before or after adding them into the cake mixture when Harry reaches forward and picks up a slice of cake.

This would be perfectly normal, even though they had been using a fork for every sample they had tried thus far, if it weren’t for the little twinkle of mischief in Harry’s eye.

He dips his head down and looks at Louis through his eyelashes, Karl still rambling on about sifting the self-raising flour to “absolut perfeksun” when Harry pokes his tongue just past his teeth. He lets it just sit there for a minute, without moving, before moving the slice of cake up to his mouth. Slowly, but incredibly, painfully deliberately, Harry stares at Louis and drags his tongue up the side of the cake in one long, wet lick. White icing covers his lips as he closes them around his tongue that is slowly sliding back into his mouth with a pop. His tongue makes a second appearance and slowly licks the rest of the icing from his perfectly pert lips, leaving them shiny and glistening.

That’s it. Louis can’t handle this anymore. Harry is an asshole. A fucking gorgeous, sexy, kinky asshole who is trying to seduce him and it’s working. Oh god is it working.

He can’t sit here anymore. His trousers are tight and if he keeps up this gnawing down on his lip for much longer he’s going to start drawing blood pretty soon.

Harry looks so satisfied with himself. That giant twat.

"Oh, I- er- uh- I’ve just got a text from Eleanor and she… we have to go." Louis blurts out suddenly and frees himself from the booth, quickly grabbing his clearly not-ringing phone from the table and stuffing it into his pocket.

He grabs Harry by the hand and pulls them both out onto the road as quickly as possible, leaving a stunned Karl in his wake.

He drags Harry toward his car and starts to wonder how his life got to the point where it started to become okay to make up excuses to leave a cake testing for his own fucking wedding in order to relieve his sexual frustration in the back of his car.

He opens the door and shoves Harry inside and doesn’t even hesitate for a moment before climbing on top of him and silently thanking One Direction’s management team for insisting on tinting the windows of his car so bloody dark.

"You think you can just sit there and lick icing off your lips like that and not expect me to do anything about it?" Louis hisses against Harry’s neck as he sinks his teeth into his flesh. "You can’t just tease me like that and get away with it, you little shit." And Harry presses Louis’ hips down onto his as their lips crash together messily.

They stay like that for a moment, grinding into each other and kissing without much regard for the rest of the world until both of their shirts manage to get their way off their bodies and Louis is mindlessly reaching down for Harry’s belt buckle.

Maybe it’s because Harry’s mouth still tastes like red velvet cake and sparkling water or maybe it’s because it’s been so fucking long since he’s touched Harry like this or maybe it’s just because touching Harry like this is one of his favourite things to do. Ever. Whatever the reason, Louis decides that grinding his hard-on down into Harry’s just isn’t going to be enough right now.

He needs more.

Louis manages to cool it off enough to break away momentarily and pulls Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth as he does so. He stares down at him for a second or two before whispering “Hold on” and clambering over the front seat of his car. He pauses before he leans all the way across and looks down at Harry who is sprawled out across the back seat of his car with a lazy little smile on his face and his hands behind his head. “And don’t look at my arse” Louis winks at him before disappearing and of course, Harry does the exact opposite.

He reaches into the glovebox and rummages around until he finds it. The lube that he really should have thrown out by now, given his current marital status, yet still remains in his car from that time he and Harry christened the passenger seat in his car with sex.

Harry smirks a bit when Louis re-emerges over the front seat, the bottle hanging limply in his hand. “Is that…?” Louis’ surprised he remembers, even though he knows deep down that there really in’t a way that either of them could possibly forget. Louis just nods coyly before swinging his leg across and straddling Harry again, his hands quick to pick up where they left off.

It’s a great feat to do so, but after a few curse words and Louis accidentally putting his hand in the wrong place and pushing the seats back with an almighty thud (which incidentally made it easier for them in the end) Harry’s trousers are eventually off.

He’s so hard that Louis is pretty certain that he would be able to hear Harry’s pants straining against him if he listened close enough.

Louis apparently can’t keep his mouth off Harry’s body for any interval longer than ten seconds, or so it would seem. Because as soon as he has shucked Harry’s pants down to his ankles Louis is surging forward to attach his lips to the base of his cock.

The strangled noises of pleasure that Harry is releasing are enough to make Louis unceremoniously harder against his own trousers and he just can’t fucking wait for this any longer.

He lubes up his fingers and begins to work Harry open instantly, his mouth still working it’s way. And before too long, with all the grace of a dying seal, Louis is pulling down his own trousers and reaching one lube-covered hand into his pants to slick himself up.

He scissors his fingers inside Harry once more, stretching him open, and purposely avoids that sensitive spot deep inside him that by now he has memorised the location of off by heart, he wants to save that for later. He crawls up Harry’s body slowly and bites down on the bit of skin where his shoulder meets his neck that Louis knows drives him crazy.

He sucks and nibbles until he leaves a mark, listening to the babbling moans escaping from Harry’s lips as he does so.

Louis pulls away so he can look into Harry’s eyes as he pushes into him desperately. That’s always been one of his favourite things to do. Harry’s eyes are practically windows into his soul and every single emotion that flashes through him can be seen as Louis slides all the way inside.

The feeling of this is all too oddly familiar to Louis. And watching Harry come undone underneath him sparks emotions inside him that he thought he had forgotten how to feel.

Harry lets out a moan low in the back of his throat and bites his lip. He throws his arms around Louis’ neck and crashes their lips together again as he begins to work up a steady rhythm.

Louis keeps trying to reason with himself for cheating on Eleanor like this. He knows it’s unacceptable and that he’s probably the worst fiancee in the world, but Harry has a conscience too, right? Harry must be just as horrible a person as he is. He too knows that Louis is getting married in three weeks, and if he had any regard for that fact whatsoever then surely he wouldn’t agree to any of this.

And Louis thinks he doesn’t mind being a horrible person if it means being horrible with Harry.

They release at the same time and cry each others names without much regard for being quiet. Louis pulls off to lick the mess from Harry’s stomach and notices with a satisfied chuckle how the windows have fogged up.

6\. I can’t trust her  
If yelling out another man’s name during an orgasm wasn’t enough evidence, on many more than one occasion Louis has caught Eleanor lying to him. Just pointless, flippant lies that roll off her tongue so easily they make Louis certain she does this more often than he can tell. And that’s not okay.

The ride home isn’t anywhere near as quiet or as awkward as Louis had expected it would be and he even kisses Harry goodbye before he exits the car and they’ve never really done things like that before, casual little goodbyes. But something tells Louis that this probably isn’t a very good time to start.

It isn’t until Louis gets home later and he trips over a pile of Eleanor’s moving-in boxes by the door that he curls into a ball on the floor and the volume of what he has just done really hits him.

Louis quite literally rolls over and screams into the rug and thinks about how royally fucked he is.

-

Harry is absent again for the planning of Louis’ stag night.

He claimed that he was in Cheshire visiting his mum and sister, which was a good enough excuse, but Louis can’t help but feel like he had planned it.

But he’s here now, for the actual thing, and that’s all that matters.

Louis isn’t sure when exactly he arrived, but he knows for certain that the sight of Harry’s long legs that seem to go on forever contained inside tight, navy blue skinny jeans is enough to make his drunken brain feel like it wants to jump out of his skull.

And he is quite drunk by this part of this night, he can tell even amidst his stupor. Because whether he admits it to himself of not, he knows that tonight he is drinking to forget. He is drinking to forget that tomorrow he is going to become someone’s husband, to forget that he is going to spend the rest of his life with Eleanor, and he is drinking to forget that after tonight, he can never touch Harry ever again.

Louis’ house is, quite literally, bursting at the seams with loud, drunken men. He is sure that there weren’t anywhere near this many people on the invitation list.

Oh well, he thinks absently as he downs another shot of what he can only presume is vodka. The more the merrier.

"Loueh!" Zayn cheers as he appears out of practically nowhere and thrusts another shot glass into his hand, spilling its contents slightly as he pats him on the back. "Here, take your medicine, yes, good boy." Zayn nudges Louis’ shoulder with his nose like a puppy as Louis quickly downs the shot, wincing and shaking his head with a "WOO!" as the burning liquid descends down his throat.

"Now, considering it is your last night as a free man - hold on, CAN I GET A FREEEEE MAAAAAAN?" Zayn pulls away from Louis and shouts into the crowd, grinning and laughing manically when they shout back in a huge chorus of "FREE MAN!" 

"Wooohoo!" Zayn clutches at his hair, his eyes wide as if he’s just witnessed the greatest thing in the world. "Anyway, as I was saying. Now that you are going to get married tomorrow, and can only sleep with one person for the rest of your life…" He shakes his head disappointedly and looks up to Niall and Liam for back up, who both pat Louis on the back with words like "That’s gotta suck, mate."

"I think," Zayn continues, "that you should kiss someone here."

"Alright lad, who’s the lucky someone gonna be, then?" Louis replies immediately, cracking his knuckles and pretending to warm up for the event, not even thinking twice or bothering about mentioning that ‘they’re all men here, Zayn’. 

Zayn seems to delve deep into thought for a moment as his eyes scan the room and his fingers scratch absently at his stubbly chin, searching for a suitable specimen. Louis clings to his shoulder as he does so because the alcohol in his system is making his body tingle and everything is going a little fuzzy and Zayn’s shoulder seems to be the only thing that’s actually real right now. He knows he is going to regret this in the morning.

"Harry!" Zayn blurts out suddenly, surging forward and grabbing the curly-haired boy. "Kiss Louis, please please pleasseeeeeee kiss Louis for me?!"

Louis tries not to laugh, at how Zayn thinks he needs to beg Harry to kiss Louis, as if there weren’t countless nights during the X-factor and tucked away on the tour bus when they were doing to exact same thing of their own accord.

Harry, of course, complies. And neither of them even hesitate a bit, because they have done this a thousand times before that it’s practically second nature between the two of them now. If anyone notices how comfortable the two of them seem together, then they don’t mention it.

Harry simply smirks down at Louis from underneath his goddamn perfect little curls and steps forward to enclose the space between them, stumbling a bit, and wraps one hand around his waist and the other on his jaw in a manner that is literally anything but gentle.

Harry smells like cinnamon and skin and Louis can tell from the look in his eyes that he is probably just as drunk as he is.

Louis tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair, naturally finding his favourite spot at the base of his skull, and doesn’t even wait a moment before rising up on his tippy toes to press their lips together. Harry seems so much bigger than him in that moment, Louis’ neck craned up to kiss him properly and his strong arms braced around his body. And Louis feels so tiny, so safe.

His mouth tastes like expensive vodka and cheap crisps and Louis pushes open his lips with his tongue.

Everything literally freezes for a moment. Everyone turns their heads and every pair of eyes in the room are on them, the DJ even stops playing the music.

It’s silent. Just two boys kissing in a room full of other boys, everything still apart from their lips moving against each other. The only sound in the room the small wet kissy noises of their tongues sliding together.

The air feels thick, Louis realises, half because Harry is effortlessly turning him on just from kissing him, and half because a room full of his mates are watching him get turned on by Harry just from kissing him.

Something that has been so secret for such a huge part of their lives, is suddenly exposed for everyone that they had been hiding it from to see.

And without warning, the room erupts into a huge cheer, everyone clapping and whooping and Louis can feel Harry smiling as he kisses him. The raucous crowd somehow manages to pull them apart and the look on Harry’s face is enough to make him forget all about everything that is going to happen tomorrow. Just for a moment Harry is all that matters.

"That was fucking awesome!" Zayn shouts above the noise, jumping up and down excitedly and Louis can’t help but absently think how Zayn would react if he found out what they did in the back of his car just the other day.

-

Harry bites his lip and blushes, looking away from Louis then glancing down at his hands which are clasped together in front of him.

Louis searches Harry’s face with his eyes, but he isn’t looking at him, his eyes are downcast and Louis is confronted with the slightly-more-than-not-okay sight of Harry’s soft eyelashes fanned out against his pale cheeks. 

Suddenly looking isn’t enough, and Louis finds himself pulling Harry closer, threading their fingers together. He catches himself staring as his eyes roam over Harry’s curls that dangle delicately in front of his forehead. The moonlight is making the deep chestnut brown glisten and shine. Harry looks perfect.

He wants to tell Harry as much, but putting how gorgeously the light bounces off his cheeks and sparkles in his eyes right now into words seems impossible. So instead he finds himself leaning forward and kissing Harry.

His lips are softer than ever as they press together and move against his own. They are plump and succulent and Louis could almost swear that they get smoother every time he kisses them.

Harry cards one of his hand through Louis’ hair as he begins to pull away. He opens his mouth to speak and-

"LOUEEEEHHH!" 

Louis is shaken into consciousness only to be greeted by the pleasant sight of Zayn’s unshaven face. And it’s then, laying there with a knee in his balls and a splitting headache as the result of what can only be described as a huge fucking night, that Louis decides that he needs better friends.

"Fuck off, Zayn." Louis mumbles and tries to pry his hand from his shoulder. "Tired. Hangover. Trying to sleep." He rolls over and buries his face under the warmth of his quilt. Louis is cosy, Louis is comfortable. Louis may never move from this spot.

"Well, Eleanor won’t be happy if you sleep through the wedding, Lou. So seriously, get the fuck up soon, alright?" Zayn lands on the floor with a thud as the result of being surreptitiously shoved off of his sleeping friend, but really, he should have learnt long ago that messing with a half-asleep Louis is never a grand idea.

The sound of the word “wedding” makes Louis wince under his sheets. I mean, he loves Eleanor, really he does. But when he thinks back to the day he proposed to her all those months ago, he would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t feel a slight twinge of regret.

But, as the wise words of Zayn’s tweets say; “you should never regret anything, because at one point in your life it seemed like a good idea (: aha .x”

The fuzzy memories of last night slowly begin to work their way back into Louis’ mind, the memories of his stag night. His bachelor’s party. His, “last night of freedom”.

There was no denying that it had been, for lack of a better word, fucking hectic. The invitation list hadn’t been set to only Louis’ closest friends and favourite family members like it probably should have been, but a plethora of males that Louis had met over the past ten or so years, ranging from their management team to some of Louis’ old teachers, even some old friends from Doncaster that he hadn’t spoken to in years.

His house was bursting at the seams with loud, drunken men. Zayn had arranged not just one, but a whole army of strippers (they had been male, naturally) and Louis was even pretty sure that Zac Efron had made an appearance at some point in the night (ah, the perks of being in a world famous boyband).

This is definitely going to go down in stag party history, Louis thinks to himself as he tucks his knees up to his chin under the blankets.

What he can recall of the night is fuzzy and clouded in the back of his mind, but nonetheless accurate. So when that one thought pops back into his mind without warning, he’s more than certain that it actually, definitely happened. Not that it should have been a problem, per se. But this time it was. Because this time people saw.

"I- shit. Where’s Harry?" Louis suddenly perks up, throwing the quilt off him and sitting upright in his bed, wide eyes frantically scanning the room. Louis’ mouth is drying by the second.

"He left at about two." Zayn mumbles with an awkward scratch to the back of his neck, and the sinking feeling Louis feels in his chest is definitely not disappointment because obviously Harry wasn’t going to stay the night after that little scene.

To no avail he screws his eyes shut in an attempt to erase the memory.

He kissed Harry last night.

Louis recalls the event as he swallows thickly, the dryness in his mouth now spreading down his entire oesophagus. He recalls not only last night but every night or part of the day that he had ever spent with Harry. Those times that were secret. And everyone else thinks the kiss they shared last night had been the first.

"He said he’d meet us there, said something about his mum." Zayn mumbles with a wave of his hand and Louis can tell that he is unable to look him in the eye. It had only been a kiss, why was Zayn so awkward about it? He was the one that dared them to do it, after all. Louis can’t even imagine his reaction if he found out about those nights.

"Anyway, you’d better get up mate. It’s your wedding day. Someone’s getting shagged tonight!" Zayn sing-songs as he exits and with a cheer that is even less than half-hearted Louis jumps to his feet as Zayn waltzes out of the room, only to fall back onto his bed and bury his head in his hands as soon as he is out of sight.

Alone and quiet now, Louis allows himself to fully remember the kiss in all its glory. All soft lips and his hands in curls and hip bones touching hipbones as everyone around them cheers them on.

Forget it, Louis thinks and pushes it to the back of his mind and tries not to picture the sad little look that was no doubt on Harry’s face as he left last night. If Zayn can do such a grand job of pretending the kiss never happened then so can he.

Louis tries to act happy, really he does. Because, well, it’s his wedding day and he’s going to be spending the rest of his life with Eleanor, so what else is he going to do? Eventually pushing all of the memories of last night to the deepest, darkest corner of his mind, Louis reluctantly rises from the edge of his bed and runs a shower as he struggles to figure out just what exactly one is supposed to do on the morning before their wedding.

-

As Louis drives to pick up his tuxedo later that day, he can’t help but realise, not for the first time, how withdrawn Harry has been from the entire planning of the wedding.

He is supposed to be his best man, for christ’s sake, Harry was supposed to be by his side through out the whole thing, right?

As Louis stares out the window and remembers the two occasions that Harry actually decided to help out, he thinks that maybe there was a reason that he decided to stay away after that.

Whatever the reason, Louis silently wishes that Harry could’ve forgotten about it and just helped him out like he was supposed to. Because it was the times like those, the times like the invitation designing and the cake testing when Louis would stare at his dumb, focused expression and his shiny curls and he would pretend that they were planning for their own wedding. He would pretend that Harry was the one that he was going to be spending the rest of his life with, not Eleanor. And somehow that made the whole thing more bearable. 

7\. I can’t imagine us growing old together.  
Because when he looks into the future, a life with Eleanor is just not something Louis sees.

-

It’s 2pm. Twelve hours since Harry left the party and two hours before the wedding ceremony is scheduled to begin, and Louis still hasn’t heard from him.

Thinking about Harry is making him nervous. So Louis tries to avert his thoughts elsewhere for the moment, but the feeling of Harry’s lips pressed to his neck is just too present in the back of his mind.

Louis nearly shits himself when his phone begins ringing on the glass table and he suddenly realises that he’s been sitting in the same spot for almost an hour, unmoving, just staring into space.

Looking around him a couple of times to make sure that no one is looking at him funny (even though he is alone in his house so really who could possibly be looking at him right now) Louis reaches across for his phone and definitely does not silently pray to any and every God that he doesn’t believe in that it’s a text from Harry.

It’s not, of course.

To: Louis  
From: Zayn  
see you in an hour man dont forget your tux aha (: x

Louis just groans and chucks his phone aside exasperatedly before quickly running over to make sure it’s okay.

Thankfully it survived the flight relatively crack-free and Louis just curls up into a little ball on the floor where it landed. It seems like everyone in the world is more excited about this goddamn wedding than he is.

But he is excited about this, Louis tells himself as he forces himself to sit up. His fingers robotically plonk out a reply that he’s not entirely sure he really means and has to shut his eyes before he presses send. He forces himself not to ask Zayn if he’s heard anything from Harry.

To: Zayn  
From: Louis  
can’t wait!! i’m getting married ahhh!

With a great amount of effort Louis piles all of his essentials, and a lamp (just in case…), into the back of his car and drives off to the venue. Definitely thinking about Eleanor’s long legs and soft brown hair and not Harry’s strong arms and angular hip bones as he stares out at the road, chewing the inside of his cheek and gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

-

By the time he arrives he can taste blood in his mouth and his fingers ache from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Zayn’s already standing outside when he pulls up and really, he would have made about a hundred times a better best man than Harry, but he couldn’t kiss Zayn on top of the wedding invitations or stare at his cherub curls or the way the icing stuck to his bottom lip during cake testing now could he?

Zayn’s pulling Louis out of the car before he barely has time to put it into park and yanks him into a huge hug.

"Zayn, I’ve missed you so much, it’s been nearly six whole hours!" Louis cries sarcastically as his friend begins to rock them from side to side in the embrace.

"Shut up, you twat, I’m happy for you!" Zayn scowls as he whacks Louis playfully over the head. "You’re about to get married!"

"Please stop reminding me." Louis groans out before he can stop himself, but Zayn just takes it as a joke and begins unloading Louis’ car with a bellowing laugh and a raised eyebrow as he pokes at the lamp less than curiously. 

Niall and Liam arrive later, greeting him in a similar fashion and wishing him good luck and the rest of the traditional pre-wedding speech.

Louis thanks them and tries to put on his best crinkly-eyed smile, but it’s 3:05 and they are all dressed to go and guests are going to start arriving any second and there’s still no sign of Harry.

-

It’s 3:30, the venue is more than half full and Harry’s family has been sitting down for ten minutes already when the curly haired boy finally makes an appearance.

He’s quiet and staring at the floor and his eyes are red-rimmed from something that Louis refuses to think was crying. But he’s there.

He’s already dressed in his tuxedo when he gets there and when he walks into the room where Louis is mucking about with the rest of the lads, they make eye contact straight away. After a moments hesitation he makes his way over to Louis in three long strides and hugs him once, whispering very deliberately into his ear “I hope this is what you want” before he pulls away and exits the room, leaving Louis neck cold in the wake of Harry’s breath.

And Louis can’t do anything but simply stare at Harry’s retreating back and wonder to himself if this really is what he wants.

-

The venue is, quite literally, overflowing with people. Louis notices as he stares down the aisle at the big wooden doors, awaiting Eleanor’s entrance.

His heart is beating a thousand times a minute inside his chest and he can hear Harry breathing behind him and it takes every ounce of strength in Louis’ body to not turn around to look at him.

He’s sure that he knows what Harry looks like right now, anyway. His hands clasped tightly in front of his body and his eyes trained to the floor. That stupidly perfect tight-fitting tuxedo looking out of place against his sad eyes and lip drawn into his teeth.

The doors open and Eleanor emerges, arm in arm with her father. Louis wants to be sick. He wants to be sick because it’s all been theoretical up until now, just hypothetical little scenes in his head of him and Eleanor standing in a church in front of 100+ people and up until now that seemed okay. But now it’s actually happening and Louis’ sweating and he can’t figure out what to do with his hands.

The memory of how Harry’s hands feel pressed up against his body is all too present in the back of his mind as he watches Eleanor walk down the aisle. He stares at her bare arms and wishes he was staring at the tattoos that he loves to press kisses to and whisper secrets against.

Louis palms are waterfalls, he has decided. Because that is the only reasonable excuse for why they have suddenly turned so clammy.

Eleanor grins at him as she steps up to the altar and Louis takes this moment to wonder why the fuck they are getting married in a church when neither of them are even religious to stop himself from passing out in the middle of the place for no explainable reason.

The priest is rambling on about something that’s probably important but Louis is only half listening to as he thinks,

8\. We’re both so young  
And really, when is it ever normal for a 21 year old and a 20 year old to get married after dating each other for a mere 2 years. Louis’ not sure if he’s ready to spend the rest of his life with Eleanor just yet. Or ever. He’s not sure if that scares him or not, either. 

And Louis can’t even begin to fathom how thankful he is that they decided against writing their own vows because he’s more than certain that the only thing that would come out of his mouth right now were he to open it to speak would be a broken, scratched whimper.

Eleanor says “I do” and suddenly this is all so real as Louis snaps back to attention just as the priest is turning to him. His robust face pulled up into a hearty smile. Louis’ heart is beating a thousand times a minute.

"Do you, Louis Tomlinson, take this woman, Eleanor Calder, to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The words flow surely out of the minister’s mouth and hang in the air expectantly. Eleanor is grinning at him, the priest is grinning at him, the whole audience is grinning at him and awaiting his response. Hundreds upon hundreds of grins in the room but the only thing Louis can pay attention to is the one non-happy face behind him.

Louis just looks at Eleanor for a moment, her light brown hair pulled back off her round face and her pale lips pulled into a small smile, she really is beautiful. They are getting married, and she’s so happy, but why isn’t he? He turns his head and looks down the aisle, surveying the faces of everyone there.

The room is overflowing with people Louis knows. Friends, family, family of friends and then all of the respective guests of Eleanor’s. They are all looking at him, smiling, his mum is in tears. Every single pair of eyes is on him. Louis wonders how a room that is so full can feel so cold and empty at the same time.

He tries to gauge his family’s reaction, and they all seem so devotedly happy for him. But the only reaction that Louis cares about right now is the one that he can’t see. Because Harry is standing behind him and he can’t turn around to look at him, he just can’t. Partly because it would be weird for him to turn around and look at his best mate when he’s about to get married to the woman he loves, but mostly because he’s sure that the broken little noise he heard earlier had been a sob and that if he turns around to look at Harry and sees him staring at the floor with tears in his eyes and his mouth in a tight, straight line, he will burst out into tears.

He knows he has to speak, Eleanor’s smile that before had been bubbling with excitement and anticipation, is now confused. Maybe even angry? Louis absently wonders how long he has been looking around the room. Minutes could have passed, hours, days, but it will never be enough god forsaken time.

He opens his mouth to speak, and he can almost hear the anticipation in the air as Eleanor’s face brightens up again before he thinks: Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck this and fuck Eleanor and fuck everything. There’s no point in trying to lie to himself, to everyone, anymore. And now that he is done lying to himself and his mind is bare and free to think whatever the fuck it wants, he can finally do it.

And now he’s done it. He has come up with all of the nine he was searching for. 

Nine good reasons to break off a wedding.

9\. I’m in love with Harry. I have been all along.

"I don’t."

The sound of gasps is deafening in the previously silent room and the look on Eleanor’s face makes Louis’ insides churn. 

"I don’t." Louis says again, more to himself than to anyone else and lets go of Eleanor’s hands and realising how much he’s shaking. He has to take a step back and breathe for a second to register the fact that those words actually just came out of his own mouth.

Eleanor hisses through her teeth at him, “Louis what are you-“

"I’m in love with someone else… A boy." Louis hears himself saying it, echoing around the room, but he’s not even sure where these words are coming from anymore because apparently he lost all form of control over his mouth from the moment he heard that strangled little sob behind him.

Louis has pictured his wedding day a thousand times over in his head, and not once did he see himself using it as an opportunity to come out. Because Louis has known that he’s liked boys for as long as he can remember, maybe as well as girls, but he’s never really ever in his life loved anyone as much as he loves Harry. He loves all the good things and all the bad things too, all the little things that add up to make Harry. And he knows that Harry loves all the quirks in his personality that make Louis Louis, that Eleanor would just never be able to understand. They know each other better than anyone else ever has, or ever will.

He realises this now, standing in front of everyone he has ever known, about to get married to the woman he’s only been seeing for the past two years, that the person he loves more than anyone else, the person he really wants to get married to, is Harry Styles.

"I’m sorry, Eleanor." Louis begins "I’m sorry, mum, and I’m sorry everyone that’s come here today, but I can’t marry you." He looks back to Eleanor. She’s crying, a flock of girls around her now. And Louis feels like the worst person in the world.

"It was never my intention to hurt you, El, please know that I love you, but we were never right for each other." Louis shakes his head, and he has no idea where any of this is coming from anymore. "We both know that we never would have worked, not really, so why did we even try?"

Louis stops for a second.  
"Ask yourself this. Do you really want to marry me? Or do you just want to get married?"

And he remembers Harry. That boy, standing barely a metre behind him, and turns around slowly, cautiously to face him.

They just stare at each other, expressions unreadable, opening and closing their mouths ever so slightly as they both struggle for the right thing to say until eventually Louis puts them both out of their misery and lips are touching lips.

In one swift movement he has Harry in his arms, holding him tight and pressing his lips even tighter, and Louis thinks he might never let him go.

But this isn’t some sappy romcom movie or a book for pre-teens, so there is no applause from the audience as the two boys kiss. No cheering and no happy love song starting to play mysteriously from out of thin air. No one shouting “go get him, boy!” and definitely no fireworks going off in the background. Only gasps, and quite possibly the sound of jaws hitting the floor. And Louis wonders how many more times he can shock the audience this afternoon.

It’s silent and it’s just the two of them and that’s all that matters to Louis in that moment, standing in front of the entire circle of people he knows and cares about, kissing Harry, the love of his life. And it feels good to be able to admit that now, to himself more than anything. For so long Louis has been lying to himself and trying to convince himself that there is nothing serious between the two of them. But deep, deep down, it’s so painfully obvious that there has been all along. Because it’s Harry, it’s always been Harry.

"Oh my god, Lou." Harry whispers as Louis pulls away and rests their foreheads together. "You stupid twat." And Louis’ just so pumped up on adrenaline that he doesn’t quite register the fond in his voice and is just about ready to fling himself from the roof of this church if Harry actually is angry at him.

But then he’s blushing so hard and there’s a tear pooling in his dimple and Louis realises he’s smiling and he whispers into his mouth. “You just called off your fucking wedding for me, you idiot. I love you so much, oh my god.”

Louis’ not sure if he’s sobbing or swelling with love, but both seem to be a perfectly logical emotion right now.

"I love you, too." Louis whispers delicately, testing the waters even though he knows that he doesn’t have to be delicate around Harry anymore, and kisses him again, in front of everyone.

Louis thinks that maybe he could get used to this. Louis thinks that maybe he already has. 

And maybe that’s okay.

-


End file.
